


Gingerbread

by Hisa_Ai



Series: 31 Days of Christmas [26]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of fic, Christmas, Christmas prompts, Day 26, Prompt Fic, Winter treats, Yule, gingerbread, gingerbread men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 08:34:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hisa_Ai/pseuds/Hisa_Ai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur means to have Merlin risk his neck for possibly some of the best gingerbread cookies there ever were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gingerbread

* * *

 

 

As God-awful as some of the things that came out of the royal kitchen were known to be, even Merlin had to agree that the winter goodies whipped up there were amazing. He just couldn't wrap his head around some of the things that got made in that kitchen that everyone was always raving about—he'd eaten the food himself, of course, many times—but the one thing he would have killed Arthur himself for were those damned cookies that the cook made. There was something about them, something sweet and tangy and  _delicious_ , that everyone  _loved_.

But they were only made during the winter months.

And as soon as they were cooking, the whole castle ceased what they were doing and flocked to the scene, everyone hoping to get their hands on at least  _one_  of them. After many years of this, it was decided that absolutely  _no one_  would be allowed any until a good number of them were finished and ready to go—perhaps they would have a feast just to get them out there for everyone. The cook was delighted at this prospect—a whole  _feast_  just because of some cookies she made—but took the whole thing much too seriously. No one, she said, must touch them until the feast. That included the king and Prince Arthur himself, she said, and, even though Uther was the  _king_  and loved them just as much as everyone else, he agreed to her terms. Because otherwise, she said, she simply would not make them anymore.

But Arthur wasn't quite as placated with these terms. The feast would not take place until three days after she began making them, and that was three days too long for the impatient prince.

"I want you to sneak into the kitchen and steal some for me," he told Merlin one morning, who was sure he hadn't heard right, because that  _cook_  had whacked him with her wooden spoons and a frying pan once for a lot less than stealing from her kitchen. And trying to steal the thing she was most famous for, the thing that kept her her job despite all the other terrible things she made during the rest of the year, was sure to earn him a lot more. He might even lose his head, if she sent word to Uther about it.

"Oh come on,  _Mer_ lin," Arthur rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as Merlin sat his armor down on his table, having just polished it and come to return it when Arthur told him his most recent ludicrous demand. "It can't be that bad. You'll be in and out before she knows what's happened."

"So you do it, then," he said in response.

If it were that simple, Arthur could just do it his damn self. But it wasn't and they both knew it, which was why Merlin found himself walking away from Arthur's room not a moment later, his head sore, lips swollen, and a threat hanging over his head. If he got some of the cookies and returned to Arthur with them by noon, he would be  _rewarded graciously_ , he had promised, but if he failed, he would be punished brutally. And if the cook caught him, he was not to mention Arthur's name. Or else.

But how the hell was he going to do it? They had guards stationed outside the kitchen to keep everyone but the servants from entering, and, even once inside the kitchen, the cook's eyes were on you until the second you left again, the cookies closely guarded or hidden away.

Even if he could somehow manage to get the cook out of the kitchen—using his magic, probably. There was no way around it, he would have to use magic to snag some of the damn things—she would have one of her helpers in there watching the cookies. And those girls were snitches and not easily swayed by Merlin's wide grin or deep eyes.

Camelot did not mess around when it came to its wintery delights.

Sure that all was lost and that he would just have to leave the city to escape Arthur's wrath when he did not receive his treats, Merlin bumped into someone, not watching where he was going exactly.

"Something on your mind, Merlin?" Gwaine asked when Merlin looked to see who he'd run into.

"Sorry, Gwaine, just… Arthur's given me this impossible task and he's only given me until noon to do it." He shook his head.

"What kind of task? Maybe I can help."

"I don't think so, Gwaine. This is… a dangerous task. You're probably not up for something like it." He told him. Honestly, Gwaine going with him would only hinder him. It meant he couldn't use his magic. So he was either going to need  _all_ the knights to make up for the loss of the one thing he had going for him, or he was going to have to do it himself.

"I'm a knight of Camelot, Merlin—of course I'm up for it." Gwaine grinned, his eyes twinkling with the promise of causing some trouble or another.

"Fine," Merlin sighed, because time was of the essence and he couldn't spare a moment to try throwing Gwaine off his trail. "You know those cookies they make in the kitchen this time of year?"

"The ones shaped like little men and taste like ginger, you mean?"

"Yeah—gingerbread men, she likes to call them,"

"What about th—Oh no. He didn't ask you—"

"He did." Merlin nodded, the look of sheer horror on Gwaine's face mirroring his own.

"That coward," Gwaine said at last, shaking his head. Merlin was sure he would be off then, leaving Merlin with good wishes to go meet up with the others for morning training.

"So do you have a plan yet or are we playing it by ear?" he asked instead, much to Merlin's surprise.

"But—"

"Just because the princess doesn't have a problem sending you to your death doesn't mean I don't. So what's the plan?" he repeated.

Within ten minutes they were both just outside the kitchen, watching a few servants come and go, collecting food, dropping off dishes, things of the such. Getting in would be no problem; Merlin would be able to get in if he had some sort of tray or something with him, and Gwaine could get in simply because of his cape and armor. But, once inside, how would they get the cookies and get out with their lives?

"If you can get the cook out of there," Gwaine suggested, ducking behind the corner as the kitchen door swung open once more. "I can distract the girl she'll have watching the goods, then you swoop in with a tray and grab some food for Arthur, hide the cookies under a napkin, and get out before she can come back."

"How am I going to get her out, though? She never leaves the kitchen for something less than an emergency this time of year."

"So create an emergency, then."

"How on earth am I supposed to—"

"I don't know, but you better figure it out soon, eh? Noon's fast approaching."

Merlin groaned in defeat, not so sure now how he felt about Gwaine joining him on his errand. It was good to have him there as both an escort, in case the guards at the door gave him any trouble, and a way to distract the girl the cook would no doubt have watching the cookies, because almost no lady in the kingdom could resist Gwaine and his charms. But he  _couldn't use his magic_. How was he supposed to get the cook out of the kitchen without his magic? Well, how was he supposed to get the cook out of the kitchen  _with_  his magic?

"Just…" Gwaine said. "Tell her Arthur wants to see her. Talk to her about… the Beltane feast."

"Beltane isn't for  _months_."

"Yeah, but you know the Pendragons, they like to  _plan_  for their feasts."

Shaking his head in defeat—it wasn't like he had any good ideas anyway—Merlin stood up, walked with Gwaine at his side past the guards at the door, into the kitchen and had the cook scurrying out within moments. A girl no more than a couple years younger than Merlin himself was left to guard the cookies that Merlin could  _taste,_  the smell was so pungent from where he stood.

Smiling at the girl, winking at Gwaine, he picked up a tray from nearby and grumbled about having to get Arthur a second breakfast, the stupid prat just wasn't satisfied with what he'd already had that morning. He walked around her, picking up some fruits and biscuits, picking up a deep red napkin from the edge of one of the long tables. He chanced a glance back, saw Gwaine chatting up the poor, giggling, blushing girl. She didn't stand a chance.

He nodded, twisting his neck to get Gwaine's attention, direct him  _away_  from what he was trying to steal. If Gwaine saw him, understood his intentions, he did nothing to indicate it, merely steered the girl away, walking off to the side of the kitchen, whispering about needing some privacy for what he wanted to talk to her about.

Once they were out of sight, Merlin slid over, trying to be casual as he lifted the cover off one of the nearby tray of cookies, grabbed a few, barely pausing to inhale the sweet scent that attacked him as he did so, tucked them into the napkin. Thinking better—what if he ran into the cook and she wanted to search the plate or something? She didn't actually trust him, after all—he stuffed the napkin carefully out of sight, not wanting to break them.

Now all he had to do was get back up to Arthur without arousing suspicion and breaking the cookies, and all would be well. And since Arthur wasn't likely to share the spoils with him, he reached for just one more cookie to reward himself, bit off the head as he replaced the top and spun around, chewing victoriously as he grabbed up the tray of food Arthur wouldn't eat anyway.

And of course, standing there, looking horrified and angry, was the cook herself, having just returned when she found out that Prince Arthur hadn't requested her services at all. Gwaine was nowhere to be seen, of course, having forgotten the  _point_  of the mission and disappeared with the girl. So Merlin was taken to Uther all alone, accused of stealing the treats from her kitchen and she expected him to be punished to the fullest extent of Uther's powers, because surely this would not stand.

Arthur stood nearby, trying to conceal his laughter as the cook left, leaving Merlin kneeling before Uther. Stupid prat had probably planned the whole damn thing. He knew what Merlin had been doing, he could have kept the cook  _busy_  for a few moments. Bastard.

"What could have possibly possessed you to try to steal the cook's gingerbread men?" Uther asked, almost amused as he made a gesture for Merlin to stand. Ah, well, at least he knew he'd be keeping his head, at least.

And then, because Arthur was evil and Merlin hated him just a bit in the moment, he said what Arthur had  _told_ him not to, at all costs. "Arthur made me do it."

Arthur's jaw dropped in a completely unprincely sort of way as Uther turned to him, still amused. He would pay for that later and they both knew it.

Arthur sighed, having been outed. "Did you at least get me some?" he asked, as though that was all that mattered.

"As a matter of fact," Merlin took the red napkin out, the cookies surprisingly unharmed. "I did."

Arthur made to grab them from him, but Uther intercepted. As his punishment for putting his manservant up to such a trick, Uther was taking the pilfered cookies for himself. He bit into one as he dismissed the boys, a triumphant sort of grin on his face. Arthur clipped Merlin on the back of the head, grumbling about his father and Merlin conspiring against him.

Well, as long as Arthur didn't get the cookies that could have very well cost Merlin his life, he supposed there was no harm done.

* * *

 


End file.
